Out of Sight
by Devon King
Summary: One of the "Four Musketeers" has turned up missing.


A short story based on characters created by Dick Clair and Jenna McMahon.

DISCLAIMER: The characters described herein are the property of Columbia Pictures Television. This is a work of fan fiction and there is no intention to profit from the use of these characters.

TIMELINE: Season Seven. Jo and Blair are juniors at Langley. Natalie is out of school. Tootie is a senior at Eastland.

RATING: PG-13. Adult themes and violence.

***************

Sections One through Five

OUT OF SIGHT

by Devon King

The elderly man gathered his coat about him and resettled himself on the bench. There was a sturdy breeze whipping along the quad, the rolling park like area that separated the main classroom and laboratory buildings on the university campus. The sidewalks were nearly deserted at the moment, however all that would change within minutes, he surmised as he took a quick look at the clock ensconced in the administration building steeple. He folded his newspaper down to a quarter of the broadsheet's size and gripped it solidly as the wind kicked up again.

Above him the garlands of greenery strung between the antique lampposts swung vigorously as did the banner announcing the arrival of the Winter Carnival. The banner thudded and popped as it pulled against its fasteners but the gentleman paid little attention as he patiently filled in yet another word in a crossword puzzle.

The tower clock began chiming, marking the change in the hour as the classes began to empty into the hallways. The door to the humanities department opened first and students poured out into the quad. Other buildings followed suit and soon the park was buzzing with activity.

Some were purposefully striding to their next classes, giving only an occasional nod or quick greeting to the people they passed in route. Others, strolled or congregated around the statuary. Some even paused to sit for a moment along the edges of the dormant fountain that was the centerpiece of the area.

The bench on which he sat was near the exit of the communications building. Students filed in and out of the double doors while he watched their progress. Then his eyes settled on an attractive young woman who paced impatiently along the walkway that led to the building. She was tall and dark hair fell casually about her shoulders. The backpack she carried hung heavily against her back as she made yet another circuit and then stopped to stare at the doors.

More students ambled out of the building, a mix of young men and women who were chatting and laughing almost loud enough for him to hear where he sat. As they descended the steps, the group broke into chuckles as it seemed the girl in the center of the group had just concluded her tale. The storyteller, a blonde haired beauty, grinned and waved at the brunette at the bottom of the stone steps.

Moments later, she split away from her cohorts and dashed to meet her friend. The two were quite a contrast. One, in bluejeans, tennis shoes and a navy pea coat; the other sporting tailored slacks, heels, sweater and a matching blazer. The brunette made a comment that caused the blonde to laugh and swat good naturedly at her friend's shoulder before they turned and began walking across the quad.

The two followed the sidewalk that ran right in front of the man's perch on the park bench. Their voices got louder as they approached.

"... you'd never get out of there," the brunette lamented. "What were you doing anyway, signing autographs?"

"Very funny," countered the blonde without missing a beat. "Patience, Jo, is a virtue. Can I help it if I'm the most interesting thing in Mass Communications?"

The dark head nodded and considered that for an instant. "That must be one really dull class," she deadpanned.

The blonde rolled her eyes at the remark and within seconds the two were laughing again. Jo smiled in greeting to the gentleman on the bench as they passed, he did the same and then dropped his head back toward his paper.

The gentle click of the blonde's heels on the sidewalk had begun fading when the man on the park bench folded back the bottom of his newspaper and rapidly made notes in a notebook.

He logged the time and place and then wrote "WARNER" in capital letters. Beside the notation he scribbled "plus Polniaczek." He sighed and thumbed through his entries made over the past two weeks. Most every entry included the postscript.

One more note was added before he tucked the book inside his coat and stood to follow the young women. It was made in the margin beside the list of data on the brunette. Circled and underlined it said only one thing: "PROBLEM?"

**************  
Natalie Green cocked her head and then zeroed in on the perfect place to strike. She stood on tip-toe and hooked the ornament near the trunk of the evergreen, just where the glass would catch the glimmer of the lights.

Oh yeah, she thought. That's perfect. She leaned away from the fresh smelling fir to survey her work. In particular, she wanted to see the effect the dainty hand-made ornaments Grandfather Polniaczek had sent the girls had on the towering tree. The Old World swirling glass baubles lent an air of sophistication to the evergreen.

Especially the little swan, or maybe it was a duckling? Whatever! Nat decided it was definitely her favorite. And it sure looked great perched over that... umm. Natalie stepped backward and frowned. I was sure I put it there, she thought.

The tree jostled slightly and the ornaments swayed. Intuition led the reporter to begin a circuit, counterclockwise, around the tree to find the source of the disturbance.

"I knew it!" she exclaimed. "Tootie Ramsey, just what do you think you're doing messing with my ornaments?" she inquired of her best friend from childhood.

"Nat, trust me, there's a certain science to decorating a Christmas tree," she offered with a nervous giggle. Natalie responded by placing her hands on her hips in consternation.

"Oh, really? Silly me. Here all I thought it took was lights, decorations and a tree! Tootie, it ain't exactly brain surgery!"

The dark haired girl sighed. "You're missing the point. See, this little guy ..." she dangled the little swan from the tip of her finger, "... he needs to be way up high."

"He was way up high!" her friend protested. The reporter scowled and illustrated her point with wide spread arms.

"Not high enough. And besides if he's over here he'll show from the top of the staircase, too!" she smiled. "He'll greet you each morning as you start down the stairs to begin your day. See? See what a difference that makes?" Tootie asserted proudly.

"How could I have ever been so blind," said Natalie, her comment dripping sarcasm. "Just because I haven't decorated a million Christmas trees doesn't mean I can't grasp the concept, you know."

"I know that," Tootie agreed as she rummaged through a tissue filled box looking for more dainty ornaments. She sat down on the back of the couch and gazed up at the deep green fir. "I wasn't sure there would be time for a tree this year," she said wistfully.

Nat picked up a package of silvery icicles. "Tell me about it. Then today, I get home and here's this big hunk of forest sitting in our living room. Absolutely naked!" Tootie giggled at her friend's dramatic description and listened as she continued.

"Being as we are a family establishment, I figured Over Our Heads couldn't afford to have a bare tree around, so I thought I'd get the ball rolling, so to speak," she grinned. "Want some icicles?"

"Pass 'em over. I really thought the holidays would sort of get lost in the shuffle this year. Things are so busy in the shop, we've got finals and meanwhile Mrs. Garrett's getting set to spend Christmas with Raymond... "

Natalie raised a finger to interject a point. "Don't forget Blair and Jo's ski trip!"

Tootie laughed. "Like I could! Honestly, I hear one more discussion about the lodge, the men or the downhills and I'm gonna scream!"

They chuckled for some time about the fervor the older girls had for their holiday trip. Each in turn, adding a new object to the tree as the conversation turned from skiing to boyfriends to the holidays and on.

**************

The muted clicks tapped on in a rhythmic pattern. Occasionally, there were pauses or heavy strikes at a particular key but the cadence was a steady one. Natalie leaned back in the well worn chair and stared at the cool blue light of the monitor.

Her seat squeaked as she propped an elbow up on the chair arm and considered what she had just wrote. Good, good, um, not so good, she decided as she evaluated the text. She repositioned the cursor and thumped at the delete key.

The words disappeared. Nat drummed her fingers on the desk next to the mouse. One knee bounced nervously as her impatience grew. She groaned, swept her auburn hair back with both hands and then laced her fingers together at the back of her head.

She rocked her head from side to side as she stared at the blinking cursor. Okay, let's try this, she decided. Her hands moved over the keyboard fluidly, their moves practiced from years hammering away on manual typewriters.

She inserted her new sentences and smiled to herself. Clear, concise and to the point, her new phrases fleshed out the details of the story. She keyed in the save command and then called up the spell-checker.

Natalie leaned back and crossed her legs as the program did its work. Oh yeah, baby! she grinned at the monitor. This was the way to work. Three hours of uninterrupted solitude -- just the computer and her.

Granted, the hours in question were from three to six in the morning, she thought with a shrug. But who's complaining? She worked the night shift at the cannery and then hustled over to The Register's offices to baby-sit the wire and write a few features for the paper.

So I sacrifice a few hours sleep, it's worth it if I get published. She tapped the keyboard again, this time sending the story to the laser printer. With a push, her chair swiveled about and she propped her sneakers up on a box of copy paper to watch as the pages fell into the tray.

Now, if I had tried to write this at home, I would be somewhere around ... paragraph two, she chuckled. That's factoring in one kitchen crisis for Mrs. Garrett, three and a half conversations with Tootie and two screaming matches from Blair and Jo.

Well, the older girls disagreements don't technically interrupt the work flow, she recounted with a grin as she folded her arms. It's just darn hard not to go and see what all the fuss is about.

One thing about our house, she decided, it's never boring.

Her eyes flicked up to the clock on the wall over the stuffed trout. The fish was wearing a Knick's hat and had a cigar in its mouth. She smiled and gave her head a shake. Sports writers. What is it with those guys? she wondered.

The familiar beep of the backup horn blared as a delivery truck pulled into its slot on the loading dock. Heavy thumps announced the arrival of the morning paper as it was unloaded and the bundles stacked near the rear entry to the offices.

The Peekskill Register hadn't been printed on site for nearly five years and Natalie thought that was a little sad. She remembered touring the newsroom and press departments as a student at Eastland. Back then, the huge presses used for the newsprint thundered so much that she could feel their vibrations in the floor.

It was the first time she was struck with the realization of how much time and effort had gone into getting all those little words on paper. It was important work and she was mesmerized by the whole process.

The last page of Natalie's article eased out of the printer and she scooped it up and carried it to the editor's in-box. That task completed, she loped down the stairs and through the narrow hallway that led to the delivery dock.

Standing on tip toe, she looked through the small windows in the heavy metal doors and saw Wendell and Harvey stacking the last of the editions in place.

Nat shoved the release bar and opened the door, standing half in and half out of the building. "Morning, guys!" she greeted the men in the insulated brown jumpsuits. She shivered a bit and tucked her hands under her folded arms. "What's the weather look like?"

The taller of the two, Harvey, straightened up from repositioning the last bundle of newspapers. His mustache twitched at the edges indicating a smile forming on his face.

"I'd have to say cold, followed by cold with a high probability of really cold," he grinned. His partner laughed and unzipped up the top of his jacket. "Hey, Natalie, you got that coffee pot on?"

She nodded and extended an arm through the doorway. "You betcha, Wendell! Made it just the way you like it, too. That java will float a dime!"

Wendell pulled off his toboggan and gloves and rubbed a hand over his dark cheeks. "A woman after my own heart," he answered as he stepped into the warm building.

"Dibs on doughnuts!" announced Harvey who was only two steps behind and closing fast.

Natalie closed the doors behind them. "Hey, save some for me, you guys!" She was halfway down the hall when a light tapping caught her attention causing her to return to the double doors.

A quick peek revealed a heavily bundled boy about ten years of age. He waved up at the girl's face in the window above him. Natalie sighed and pressed open the door.

"Kid, you really need to get more sleep," she told him as she ushered him into the warmth. "What are you trying to do, stunt your growth?" Gary McKay just smiled, his blue eyes twinkling behind his glasses at her remark.

"What on earth are you doing here now? The rest of the carriers won't arrive for an hour," she asked.

"I know," he stated, his head bobbing enthusiastically in agreement. "Aaron Billings and Joey Lester quit yesterday so I'm taking over their routes." He pointed proudly to the neighborhoods that entailed on the delivery map posted by the exit.

Natalie surveyed the chart. She whistled softly. There were close to thirty routes in the little town. "That's a whole lot of newspapers. Your mom going to drive you?"

"Nope," the little fellow answered. "I've got it all figured out. Look at this..." he opened the door and pointed to a red Radio Flyer wagon hitched to the back of a pink bicycle.

"I carry my inventory with me. Plus, I've got short cuts between the areas all mapped out so there won't be any wasted time," he declared. Natalie didn't look convinced. She closed the door again.

Gary pushed his sturdy glasses back up on his pert little nose. He held up three gloved fingers. "Look, Natalie, with the extra routes I'll be able to make three times the money. I'll have my own bike by Spring!"

Natalie pointed at the dock. "What's the matter with the one you've got now?"

He kicked a booted foot at the baseboard. "It's my sister's."

"And..?"

"It's for girls," he frowned. "It's pink. It's got a pink glitter seat," he said disgustedly.

"So what?" A bike's a bike, thought Natalie.

"It says 'Strawberry Shortcake' on it."

Nat nodded solemnly. "Okay, kid, I see your point," she patted him on the shoulder. "Let's get those papers counted out and get you closer to your macho man express!"

************

Edna Garrett descended the staircase. She paused two steps from the bottom and listened. No clinking spoons, no rustling papers, not even a muffled giggle greeted her ears. She looked out over the living room and then checked her watch dubiously.

She tapped at the instrument's crystal with a manicured nail. It was seven in the morning. She made the last two steps to the first floor, walked slowly around the table, and peeked through the double doors that marked the entrance to their boutique's showroom.

The store was dark. It was lit only by the light of the neon sign that proclaimed the business name. Truth be told, the redhead was still a little amazed at the transformation the place had undergone. The cozy warmth of Edna's Edibles had given way to a shiny, chrome and plexiglass world of gifts and cards.

The funny thing is, she thought. I like it. I really do! Less responsibility, more time to myself plus the opportunity to go back to college.

She wandered into the showroom and smoothed the collar of a neon-hued shirt. Turning about, she noticed a new display on a shelf. Someone had arranged the Peanuts gang, Bloom County characters, Smurfs and Gumby into a baseball game. Each figure posed just so -- caught in the moment before the pitch.

She laughed out loud at the sight and wondered which girl was responsible. Upon closer inspection she noticed a Yankee pin attached to the orange feline at home plate. Mystery solved, she smiled. Jo was the resident Yankee fan.

A sound from the living room caught her attention and she rushed toward the commotion.

Natalie Green straggled through the doorway and shoved back the hood of her parka. "'Mornin', Mrs. Garrett!"

"Good morning to you, too!" She folded her hands in front of her and smiled. "And good night," she said firmly. "I don't want to see you for at least eight hours."

"On my way now." Nat folded her down coat over her arm and headed for the stairs.

"Good morning and good night all in the same sentence," she mused. "I knew days got shorter in the winter but who knew how short!" Her mentor chuckled at the remark and then thought of a question.

"I don't suppose Jo and Blair are working overnight at the cannery, too?" she asked. The petite redhead raised her arms and indicated the empty rooms.

Natalie stopped and yawned into a fist. "Nope, they were going to the library before their exams started today."

She gripped the railing and leaned slightly toward Mrs. Garrett. "I don't know what's more barbaric -- having your future hang on a two hour test or having to wait until after the holidays to find out if you flunked," she asserted with a shiver.

"Stress like that could keep me happily scaling smelt for a lifetime!" she grinned. Mrs. Garrett gave her a doubtful look.

"Well, okay. At least until I'm published," she amended.

"And Tootie?" Edna had missed the Eastland senior this morning as well.

The would be journalist scowled. "Tootie wants to be published, too?"

Mrs. Garrett smirked at the comeback. "I'm going to let that slide," she countered. "You tell me where Tootie is and we'll just chalk that last one to fatigue." Her head wobbled in that jaunty fashion that indicated she was winding up for whatever came next.

Nat's eyes widened. "Oh, no problem! She picked me up for breakfast," she explained. "Guess she thought I deserved a break today," she kidded.

Edna nodded slowly. Well, they aren't present but at least they are accounted for, she rationalized.

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Garrett, I thought she told you she'd be leaving early," Natalie apologized.

"It's okay, Natalie. No harm done," she pointed toward the girls' bedroom. "Now get out of here and get some rest," she ordered. Natalie yawned, nodded her agreement and plodded up the stairway.

Mrs. Garrett looked at the front entrance to their living quarters. She rubbed her chin and considered her options.

I suppose I could install a revolving door, she thought.

*********

The brunette opened the door and stepped inside quickly, making way for her friend. It had started out as a completely pleasant afternoon. Jo had completed her Economics final at twelve and, as soon as Blair's Communication Theories presentation was over, the two grabbed a quick lunch and headed out to finish their Christmas shopping.

Both were elated to have their mid-terms behind them and the promise of a exciting ski trip in front of them. However, a difference of opinion as they gathered up the last of their gifts had escalated into an argument.

Technically, you can't call it an argument, thought Jo as she watched her roommate carry her items into the living room. She rubbed the back of her neck and sighed. That would be because Blair hasn't spoken to me since we left the mall.

"I'm not trying to pick a fight, I just think you're going a little overboard," hedged Jo.

Blair flung a shopping bag up over the back of the couch. It settled amid the blue cushions as the socialite tugged angrily at her leather gloves. She stood at the side of the telephone table and glared at her roommate.

The first glove came off and she threw it down hard against the wooden tabletop. Jo raised her hands and made a calming gesture.

Blair whipped the other glove at her friend. The brunette caught it easily.

"Okay, now you're overreacting ..." Jo said calmly. Natalie Green had entered the room just in time to see the blonde launch the missile.

"Hey, guys!" she grinned. "Nice throw, Blair," she added as she scooted between the two women and plopped down at the table with her lunch.

Blair propped a fist on one hip and tapped a toe in irritation. "Natalie, would you please explain to Jo that my sister's first birthday is only going to happen once?"

The Eastland grad swallowed a bite of cheese sandwich. "Jo, Blair would like you to know that Bailey's first birthday will only happen once," she reported happily.

The brunette gave her a dirty look. "Thank you, Nat. I know that. It's just that ..."

Blair interrupted. "Natalie, do you think you can make Jo understand that since Bailey's birthday falls on Christmas eve it makes it an even bigger occasion?"

Natalie held up a finger, signaling a pause while she chewed rapidly. A quick shot of milk to wash things down and she began, "Jo, Blair hopes you realize..."

"Will you cut that out?!" Jo cried. The brunette took off her jacket and jerked open the closet door.

"It's bad enough having Her Majesty here on my case, I do not need an instant replay by the palace parrot!" she called over her shoulder as she hung up the article.

Natalie shrugged and went back to munching her sandwich. Jo crossed the room and tried to reason with her friend.

"I'm just saying that you don't need to spoil the kid. Before you know it, she'll start to expect the world on a platter. She'll be obnoxious. She'll be selfish."

"She'll be a Warner," quipped Natalie. Blair's head whipped around as her angry gaze fell on the girl at the table.

"You're just full of help, aren't you, Nat." Jo deadpanned. She played with the tie that dangled around the collar of her blouse. This is not going well, she thought.

Natalie grinned at Blair. The socialite folded her arms and tossed her hair over her shoulder. She didn't blink. She didn't move. She just kept a steely glare on the redhead.

Natalie tugged at the collar of her sweatshirt and pulled it away from her throat. She coughed and giggled weakly. Realizing that the blonde had no sense of humor where her little sister was concerned, she changed her strategy.

The girl swiveled around in her chair to address the brunette. "Aw, Jo, lighten up, this is the one time of year when everyone goes a little shopping crazy. Heck, I nearly burned a hole through my credit card myself!"

She gathered up her dirty dishes and stood. "So Blair got a little carried away shopping for a kid? Hardly a crime in my book."

"Thank you, Natalie. I see reason finally won out." The blonde smiled smugly and stripped off her coat.

"Well, that and you were burnin' a hole through the back of my head!" Natalie wailed. The reporter quick stepped over to Jo. "How do you two do this all the time?"

A slim brow arched as Jo considered the question. "We've had a lot of practice," she quipped. "Actually, we're thinking of turning pro." Across the room, Blair chuckled at her roommate's assertion.

The girl from the Bronx thought about it. Thought again and just couldn't help herself. "I still think you should've stopped with the tricycle, though."

"Jo, don't start this up again," Blair hung her head and leaned on the back of one of the chairs.

"Getting the apple on top of everything else is just way too much," Jo said carefully.

Natalie stared slack jawed at Jo. "Hold on a second here. This..." she waved a finger back and forth between the girls, "... this whole cold war is over a piece of fruit?!" she asked. "You guys have fought over some pretty stupid stuff before, but come on ..."

Jo frowned at her friend. "Not an APPLE apple, Nat. An Apple computer!"

"What!" Natalie spun around to gape at Blair. The blonde coed raised her chin and stared back. Not going there again, thought Natalie.

"Of course, computers are excellent learning tools for children," she offered meekly. Blair nodded and smiled.

Jo rolled her eyes. "Natalie..."

"Woah! Look at the time! Gotta go!" Nat blurted as she beat a hasty exit to the kitchen. She nearly ran over Tootie who was hurrying into the living room to catch up with her friends.

"Careful! Hey, where are you going?" the Eastland senior asked.

"Mongolia. Uruguay. Paraguay... one of those 'guay' countries," Natalie grinned. She grabbed her roommate by the arm. "I wouldn't go in there if I were you," she advised.

"You'll need one of two things to survive -- either a referee's whistle or body armor." Tootie snickered at the suggestions. Natalie leaned closer and whispered a parting thought.

"I suggest the body armor."

*********************

Blair raised the price gun to the tag and pulled the trigger. The little label appeared indicating the shirt's cost and the Over Our Heads logo in bright teal ink.

The coed hoped to get the new inventory tagged and displayed today because she had promised to help Jo out with a project tomorrow afternoon. She reached for the next neon colored blouse with a smile. Only a dozen more to go, she thought cheerfully.

She smoothed the fabric out and buttoned the collar around the hanger. The bright shirts had been a hit with the shoppers. I just love being right, she thought smugly.

Over at Jo's counter, where the novelty items were available, Tootie Ramsey was humming along with the seasonal songs that played over the shop's music system.

The petite drama student was wrestling a large box on and off of the countertop. She stood on tip toe and positioned the lid, holding it firmly in place. As soon as she reached for a piece of tape, the lid scooted open. The cute high school senior exhaled in frustration, the breath lifting her bangs away from her forehead.

Jeff, you had better love this, she thought. If you know what's good for you, you will adore it. It had better be your favorite gift this year, she decided.

She launched into her task again, though her movements were beginning to show signs of agitation with the chore.

She taped one end of the lid in place and opened it, hoping to stuff the contents inside. The heavy rubber items she placed inside were larger and sturdier than the cardboard box. The weaker package sagged and bulged as it stretched to fit the present.

Tootie worked at reinforcing the package to hide the lumps. She wrapped the contents in tissue paper and tried again. Now the box bunched up in the center. A furrow formed between her dark brows as she glared at the unruly present.

The entry bell jingled as a trio of customers entered the shop. Tootie laid her hands on the counter to either side of the bloated package and looked pleadingly towards the fashion counter.

The Eastland student sighed deeply, taking full advantage of her theatrical training. She yanked a length of transparent tape from the dispenser and promptly tangled it in the wrapping paper. The metallic paper fluttered noisily about as she trapped it first with an elbow and then grabbed at it with her free hand.

Blair pressed her lips together to keep from smiling and kept hanging shirts on the chrome rack. Any second now, she thought. Wait for it. She'd been ready to step in and help with the wrapping for the past ten minutes, however repeated lectures from Jo about her penchant to "butt into everyone's business" had taught her to wait until asked.

"Blair?" the younger girl called sweetly and with a touch of helplessness.

That's my cue. The debutante turned on her heel and with a smile and a nod, decided to take care of first things first. She headed toward the front windows to greet the customers. As she passed her friend, she patted the rounded bulge so apparent in the box top.

"Bowling ball?" she inquired politely.

"Not hardly," Tootie leveled a lethal stare at the blonde.

Blair scooted past the angry look and headed for the upper tier of the showroom to assist the shoppers -- leaving Tootie alone again with her parcel.

The girl leaned against the counter and frowned. She turned the box around, surveying it from every angle. Wait a minute, that side's not so bad, she thought.

Yeah, a little ribbon here. Her small hands repositioned the package. A great big ribbon there, she smiled and snatched up the largest bow from beneath the counter and placed it smack on top.

It ain't perfection but at least it's progress, she decided with a grin.

Tootie looked up just as Jo Polniaczek swept into the store at her usual breakneck pace. "Hiya, Tootie!" she called as she weaved her way around the displays.

Her leather jacket was halfway off when she greeted her roommate who was busy ringing up the latest sales at the cash register. "'Lo, Blair! How ya doin'?" she waved and chuckled lightly at the blonde's look of surprise.

Tootie watched the exchange. "What has gotten into you, girl?"

The dark haired beauty grinned and held up a small kraft paper wrapped parcel. "The Christmas spirit, Tootie. Nothing else!" She placed the package on the countertop beside Tootie's wrapping project. The entry bell chimed again signaling the customer's departure from the store.

Blair rushed over and slid into place beside Jo. "Did you find them?" she asked excitedly.

"Yeah!" her roommate nodded happily. "Of course, they aren't the ones -- but man! Are they ever close!" she exclaimed.

Tootie blinked and looked from one girl to the other.

The socialite rubbed her hands together. "Come on, come on, I'm dying to see them!"

"Thanks for telling me about that antique shop."

"Aw, you're welcome. I knew if anyone would have them it would be Mr. Clancy," Blair responded brightly.

The brunette hooked a finger under the wrapping and began carefully removing it. Tootie's puzzlement grew and she giggled nervously.

"Heh, heh, you guys, what's going on here?" She stretched up to her full height and looked around the store. "Are there hidden cameras or something?"

"What do you mean?" asked Blair.

Tootie folded her arms. "Either I just stumbled into the twilight zone or Jo's been hit on the head or something," she said. Jo looked up at the mention of her name while Tootie continued, "You two are acting way too, too ..."

"Too what, Tootie?" Jo growled.

"Yeah, too what?" Blair chimed in a beat later.

Tootie threw up her hands. "Friendly!" the girl blurted. The college students passed a look between them and then waited on their younger friend to elaborate.

Exasperated at their behavior, Tootie looked at Jo while she pointed at the blonde. "You think she's a selfish, egotistical brat," she paused and reversed her motions, "... and Blair, you think Jo's on some lower evolutionary scale!"

Jo squinted at the girl. "So, what's your point?" she deadpanned. Blair smirked as Tootie's jaw dropped open.

"What's next dogs and cats living in harmony?" wailed Tootie.

"Weirder things have happened. We live with you, don't we?" Blair responded sensibly as Jo snickered.

"Okay, fine. Whatever," scowled Tootie. "So, pod people or whoever you are, what's in the box?" she sighed.

Jo returned to unwrapping the tiny box. She laid the paper aside and jutted a thumb at Tootie. "What's eating her?" she asked Blair who raised her shoulders in an exaggerated shrug.

The socialite cast her brown eyes heavenward as she thoughtfully considered the question. She raised a hand to her mouth as though shielding her reply from Tootie's ears.

"I think she's a little grumpy because she had trouble wrapping Jeff's coconut," she whispered.

Jo's eyes widened as she looked at the misshaped, bow-bedecked box on the counter beside them. "Is that what that is? I thought it was a shaving kit for Wylie Coyote!" she quipped. The roommates laughed as they were treated to a Ramsey glare.

"The box, Polniaczek. Open the box while I still have a sense of humor," Tootie intoned as dramatically as possible.

"Now, why didn't ya just say so?" asked the brunette with a sly smile.

**************

Jo climbed the stairs two at a time. She was halfway in the open door before she thought to knock and was embarrassed at her oversight. Luckily for her, Edna Garrett, college student, was bent over a book of poems and didn't notice the girl's haphazard manners.

She tapped the doorframe with a knuckle. "Mrs. G?"

The redheaded woman from Wisconsin looked up, her eyes twinkling over the tops of her reading glasses. "Jo!" she smiled and pulled the glasses off, letting them dangle in her hand.

"You were in such a hurry, I thought you would overshoot the room and end up in the attic!" she laughed.

Jo fidgeted, she scratched the back of her head and thrust a hand in the pocket of her jeans. "Oh, ah, yeah. I guess you could sorta hear me coming," she admitted. "Sorry about that," she said as she looked at the floor.

Mrs. Garrett chuckled and set her eyewear and reading aside. She beckoned the girl into the room.

"It's okay," Edna replied, her head bobbing as she answered. "After all these years, I'm kind of getting used to it," she smirked. "Now get in here and tell me what's got you so ... energized!" She accented the last word by raising the pitch of her voice.

Jo looked up with a grin. "I wanted you to see these before I gift wrapped them," the girl announced. She proudly displayed the tiny box and opened it as Mrs. Garrett moved closer. "They're for my Mom."

Edna took the offered case from the grinning girl and tilted it into the light to get a look at its contents.

"Jo," she breathed as the earrings sparkled against the velvet mat. "They're beautiful!" Carefully, she touched one with a finger, exploring the screw-type fastener at the back of the antique jewelry. The swirling ornate gold settings held three pearls that would cover the wearer's earlobe while tiny gold links suspended a fourth teardrop shaped pearl.

Garrett wrapped an arm around Jo's shoulder and tugged her closer so they could both inspect the gift. "She'll adore them," she said with confidence.

Jo blew out an anxious breath. "I hope you're right," she commented as Edna handed the case back to her.

Jo's green eyes stayed on the velvet lined box. "You know that money's always been a little tight for me and Mom," she admitted.

She snapped the lid of the case shut and enclosed it with her hand. "There were a lot of things she did without so I could go to Eastland. Some of it I knew about and some she never even mentioned."

Jo rubbed her nose in an offhanded manner. Some things were hard for her to talk about, even with Mrs. G, she decided with a chuckle and a gentle shake of her head.

Edna smiled reassuringly at her charge. So many changes through the years, she thought. The little girl who used to run when things got complicated had turned into a young woman with the determination to meet her challenges head on.

The brunette cleared her throat. "Anyhow, it wasn't until Easter a year ago that I found out she'd hocked great-grandmother Amati's earrings," she said sadly. "Just for me. So I'd have a little more spending money. So I could take the train into the city on weekends. Go to the galleries and museums," she sighed.

Mrs. Garrett nodded as she listened. She had no trouble imagining Rose Polniaczek making such a sacrifice for her daughter. Jo wiped quickly at the corner of an eye and then turned on a dazzling smile.

"So since then, I've been looking for those earrings," she raised a hand when she saw Mrs. Garrett's eyes widen. "No, Mrs. G, I don't think it's them. But they're as close as I can remember," she grinned.

"Heck, I even called in the big guns on the hunt!" She elbowed her mentor lightly, "That would be Blair," she snickered. "See how desperate I was to find them?"

Edna thought of the two girls scouring the jewelry district together and clasped her hands together in delight. "Jo, your Mom is going to be bowled over by your gift and by your thoughtfulness," she noted sincerely.

Jo sidestepped the compliment. "Yeah, I'm a real stinker, aren't I?" she grinned.

Mrs. G. shook her head and brushed a lock of hair away from the brunette's cheek. "Actually, I was going to say that you're pretty terrific," she mused. She raised a hand to her chin and studied the girl in front of her.

The petite redhead's brows raised. "But, now that you mention it -- 'stinker' works too!" she agreed with a flourish.

***********  
Blair's left hand tapped the steering wheel keeping perfect time with the radio. She and her roommate had been singing along with Whitney Houston's latest hit, "How Will I Know," for the last three blocks.

On this particular sunny Wednesday afternoon, the blonde was singing backup to the brunette's lead and was having a ball adding harmony where it would fit.

She frowned slightly when her friend turned down the music and indicated the last turn.

"Okay, we're here," Jo announced after the car rounded the corner. She scanned the street and found a parking space. "Park over there and it'll be a short walk to the center." She sorted the lists she had in her hands, chose one and stuffed the rest of the slips into the pocket of her denim jacket.

Blair offered a crisp mock salute. "Yes, sir! Anything else, sir?" She stepped on the clutch and smoothly dropped the five speed into reverse, sliding it easily into the slot.

As they climbed out of the Porsche, Jo checked their position in the space. She whistled at the maneuver. "Not bad, Warner. I bet you passed parallel parking with flying colors," she commented.

Blair popped open the hatch on the sleek 944 and shrugged. "I had to. Have you seen the size of the parking spaces in front of Bloomingdale's?" she grinned. "Not a lot of room for error."

"Well, that figures." Jo studied her friend for a moment, thrust her hands in her pockets and took a deep breath. "Hey, you know, I really appreciate your help with this whole thing..." she began.

Blair rattled her keys and tucked them in the pocket of her jacket. "Don't mention it."

"You got it!" her roommate responded brightly. The brunette grinned and waited for a reaction.

"Jo!" The look that accompanied the exclamation was scolding as she watched her friend start up the street.

"I'm kidding! Come on, we're just a few storefronts away." The brunette paused and angled a thumb up the avenue.

With typical Warner grandeur, the blonde made an expansive wave. "Lead on, Santa. Let's get this sleigh loaded up!" she laughed as she hurried to fall into step with her friend.

******************  
"Excuse me, Ms. Warner?"

"Yes?" She answered as she repositioned some of the boxes, tucking them beneath one arm. Why it was that no two of them were the same size? she wondered.

"I thought I recognized you. Though the photographs I've seen can't begin to measure up to the reality," he extended his hand toward the young woman.

Never too busy or too burdened to hear a compliment, Blair beamed at the praise and balanced her parcels in one arm. She gave her hair a toss and shook his hand. "Thank you, and aren't you the charming one?" she smiled. "And you are...?"

"Ms. Warner, I'm Arthur Grey and I'm an associate of your fathers. David keeps me up to date on all your accomplishments," he answered smoothly. "He's very proud of you."

A smile tugged at the corners of her lips. "I'm afraid his opinion may be a wee bit biased, Mr. Grey," she offered as she juggled the boxes in her keeping.

Seeing her difficulty, Mr. Grey motioned to one of the well dressed young men in his group. "Please, my dear, allow us to help you with your purchases."

"Thank you, but that isn't necessary," she protested only to feel the parcels lifted from her arms by the handsome fellow. "Well, if you insist..." she shrugged. "The trunk is open," she added to the man who was heading toward the rear of her car.

"Mrs. Warner, I was wondering, would you mind to take a few minutes and show my staff and I around your lovely city? I'm quite sure there isn't a better guide in all of New York state," he suggested. "The van is just up the street and we promise not to impose upon you all afternoon."

Staff? She wondered why she hadn't noticed them before but there were several men assembling about them on the sidewalk. They had spoken less than a hundred words to one another and yet Blair had decided she didn't care much for Arthur Grey. Something in his manner was off-putting.

Oh sure, he was impeccably dressed. In fact, his manner was downright continental. His entourage was as efficient as those from the United Nations. He'd said all the right things, too. She opened her mouth to respond when the clatter of a shopping cart drew her attention away from the invitation.

Her eyes tracked over to the source of the sound and she smiled in spite of herself. Right on cue, she thought. Way to go, Jo. The brunette was bringing the last of the wrapped items along in a cart ambling her way towards the group.

Blair pulled her keys from her pocket. "Another time, perhaps," she answered sweetly. "This afternoon my friend and I have already made plans," she raised a hand in Jo's direction. "I'm sorry."

The man's lips pursed in thinly veiled irritation. "I see," Grey responded mannerly. He watched as Jo approached. "Well, then the least we can do is help these young ladies get on their way. Robert, Paul -- do help Ms. Warner's friend with her gifts." His voice had taken on a commanding tone.

Immediately, two of the men moved into action. Meanwhile, Mr. Grey and two others stayed with Blair. Grey once again asked for Blair's assistance in getting around town. Once again she politely declined.

"Woah! Hey, fellas," grinned the brunette as the men reached for the items in the cart. "Those are not for you!" she admonished with a pointed finger. Her green eyes widened and she looked to her friend for an explanation.

"Ah, Blair?" Jo watched as they began transferring the items into the trunk.

"Jo Polniaczek, may I present Mr. Arthur Grey and his associates," she answered from across the hood of the vehicle. Mr. Grey tipped his hat toward the young woman. "They're friends of my father's and, apparently, they love packing presents into cars," she added with a chuckle.

"How do you do, Ms. Polniaczek," Grey intoned with a cordial smile.

One by one, the boxes were placed in the vehicle. "Fine, sir. Thank you... and thank you, guys, for the help!" she answered with a wave. "Hey, careful with that one, it's a tea set," she cautioned. Jo folded her arms and supervised as they emptied the cart into the Porsche.

Blair rocked on her heels and tried to make small talk with the trio on the sidewalk. She noticed that one of the fellows helping Jo had quit and was merely watching the other complete the task.

"Ms. Warner, I do wish you had reconsidered ..." he entreated again as he walked around to face Blair. Blair shook her head and wondered if all of her father's associates were so hard headed.

From his vantage point he could see both girls. Grey's face became very solemn and he folded his gloved hands in front of him. "... because this all could have been avoided," he sighed.

Brown eyes narrowed at the abrupt change in his manner. His comment had a distinctly sinister ring to it and her patience with his refusal to take no as an answer had reached its limit.

A courteous good-bye later, she pivoted to make her way back to her car when a hand grabbed her arm and brought her up short. Startled by the action, she tried to pull away only to find the grip was secure. Next, the associate leaned against her, jabbed something into her ribs and held it there.

She stiffened in surprise, shock numbing her reactions. A quick glance down was followed by a soft gasp of disbelief. It seemed the only sound she could hear clearly was her own heartbeat. She looked up to the man who held her arm and he smiled down at her, his eyes hidden behind dark glasses.

If you noticed them in passing, they would appear to be a couple engaged in a deep conversation. In actuality, his fist concealed a gun and he kept it pressed firmly against her side.

Grey stepped closer to her and spoke in a quiet voice. "Do not scream. Do not struggle," he smiled as he intoned the words. He made a gesture toward the rear of the car. "Robert has a similar weapon in his coat pocket and he has it pointed at your friend."

Blair blinked. No, this isn't happening, she prayed silently. Her eyes flickered toward Jo who was rearranging boxes to fit them in the small space. The two men stood to either side of the brunette.

"Wait, listen, leave her out of this," she whispered.

"I meant to, if you had only agreed to accompany us. As it is, we'll be needing both of your services now." He chuckled. "Although she is of considerably less value, and therefore much more expendable."

He sneered at the business mogul's daughter. "It's ironic, don't you think? For the tough little girl from the Bronx to die here on the quiet streets of Peekskill."

Blair took a breath and fumbled with her keys. There had to be something to do... something... anything. She chose to give him what he wanted.

Grey pressed his advantage again. "Really, it is such a pity. Her life snuffed out, a victim of street crime," he threatened.

Blair's voice was rigid with fear. "No! Don't hurt her!" She paused. "Give me two minutes and I'll get rid of her. No tricks. She leaves unharmed and I'll climb in that van without a protest."

Grey patted her shoulder, letting his hand linger a little too long in the process. "Very well, Ms. Warner. Remember, we are watching you... and your friend."

Blair nodded solemnly, her expression was unreadable. Mr. Grey's associate released her arm and discreetly hid his weapon from view as the young woman turned to address her friend.

She raised her chin and forced a smile onto her face. Her only thought was of getting Jo as far away from all of this as possible. Just this once, please, don't argue with me, she hoped.

The socialite stepped down from the curb and faced her friend.

"Hey, Jo! Listen, I hate to do this but Daddy promised Mr. Grey that I would give him the grand tour of our little burg..."   
  
**********************

Blair watched her red sportscar pull away. It turned the corner as Mr. Grey's entourage closed in to usher her to the waiting van.

She climbed into the dark vehicle with the tinted windows without a word of complaint, thereby keeping her end of the bargain.

Once inside, her purse was taken from her. "Hey! You guys can relax, I'm not carrying a Howitzer or anything," she retorted to the man who pulled the bag away. She looked at him with a sour expression. "You know, it really doesn't match your belt or shoes," she quipped.

Mr. Grey, swiveled his seat about so that he could face his captive. She sat between Paul and Robert on a bench seat in the center of the vehicle. "Take her jewelry. All of it," he ordered.

As the men reached forward with gloved hands, she hurriedly began unfastening her watch. "This is awfully dramatic for a mugging," she grunted as the heavy timepiece fell loose around her wrist. Each bauble was taken and placed in velvet bag that was then passed to Mr. Grey

Grey chuckled and steepled his fingers together. "Hardly a mugging, Ms. Warner. If you would prefer, I can think of other things we could remove to prove that you are in our keeping. Would you like that?"

He rummaged through the sack and selected a ring, the antique signet that her Grandfather had given her, and placed it in his breast pocket. Blair's jaw worked as she ground her teeth together. Her kidnapper didn't seem to notice or care. Instead, he laughed.

"David Warner's baby girl means the world to him, and after meeting you, I can quite understand why. You really are quite the young beauty," he commented. "And courageous, as well. It was very shrewd of you to barter your friend's safety," he said as he gazed at her.

"Yes, quite the prize. I wonder what he'll give to have you home again?" he asked. "In a choice between you and your family's millions, which will he choose? What do you think, Ms. Warner? "

She raised her chin and eyed him coldly. "I think," she said in a tone filled with contempt, "... that they are going to love you in prison."

Grey tilted his head and opened his hands in a symbol of mock surrender. He swiveled back around, and tossed the next command over his shoulder to his henchmen.

"Restrain her. If she gives you any trouble at all, do whatever you must to subdue her."

**************

"Begin now," he ordered.

His assistant turned on the video camera and trained it on his employer. Through the lens, all that was visible was the sharp outline of the gentleman's silhouette.

He addressed the camera in an authoritative manner, speaking almost peevishly.

He outlined the way things would proceed. No media. No police. Certainly no FBI.

There were muted sounds off camera. At the end of the taping, the man directed the cameraman to pan right. A blur of images swept by as the unit picked up everything it passed.

When it stopped it rested on three people.

Two men and one young woman. The girl appeared nervous and a little disheveled. She moved and it became obvious that she was being held in place. A pair of black leather gloves gripped the tops of her shoulders, shining dark and sinister against the fabric of her navy blue sweater.

The silhouetted man barked an order at her. She looked off camera but did nothing. The camera zoomed in closer. Now, just her head and shoulders filled the viewfinder.

He repeated himself, telling her what he wanted her to say. Reminding her of the message she was to impart to the viewer of the tape.

"Drop dead!" she snarled.

She was struck hard across the face. Another leather glove grabbed a handful of her blonde hair and forced her to raise her face. She gasped and gritted her teeth. Her eyes watered from the crushing force of the backhand.

Again he posed his request.

Again she refused.

She yelped as the second blow snapped her head to the right. The blonde raised her face, her dark eyes flashing and full of fury. Her lower lip was cut and the collar of her blouse bore tiny flecks of red.

The camera panned back to the outline of the narrator.

"Your daughter has quite a strong spirit, Mr. Warner. Eighteen million dollars insures that she lives to enjoy it."

******************   
"Hi there, Mrs. Chisholm!" Jo smiled. The coordinator of the shelter glared at the brunette.

Undeterred, the coed walked confidently up to the counter where the stout woman stood. She placed her hands on the surface and wondered how best to proceed.

Damage control, she decided.

"Now, I know you're probably wondering where I've been and what's taken so long," she admitted.

The dark woman glowered at the college student. "Don't they teach you how to tell time at that fancy college? We've had volunteers waiting for over an hour."

"I know that," the brunette admitted apologetically. Jo took a deep breath. "You deserve a good answer or at least a great excuse."

She looked toward the community room where the people who would sort and deliver the gifts were assembled. It had been a long and tiring afternoon of gathering and transporting.

Jo had visited six different sites all by herself. The packing and unpacking of the car was hard enough but without Blair along to handle all the chit-chat and schmoozing that went along with the chore, Jo had gotten further and further behind schedule.

At each place along their route, the brunette had expected Blair to breeze in and take up where they had left off.

It didn't happen.

"Mrs. Chisholm, I'm really sorry about being late. It's my fault and if I could've prevented it, I would have," Jo explained. The coordinator opened a panel in the counter, stepped through and walked up to the college student.

"We're in the business of keeping promises, Miss Polniaczek. The people who use our facility have had their hopes crushed too many times for us to let it happen again," she lectured.

Jo nodded. "Yes, ma'am."

Chisholm sighed, her face displaying her disappointment. "I've gotten used to you Langley students making your token tours of do-gooder service through here. I just thought you were different," she said harshly.

The woman brushed past Jo on her way to the community room. The remark echoed in the brunette's ears. It stung, but she really couldn't blame the center's director.

She trusted me to do my part and I blew it. Jo turned and walked toward the door. After all, there were still packages to unload and there were still a few volunteers left to deliver them.

The red sportscar stood out like a beacon in the underprivileged neighborhood. The closer she got to the shiny 944, the darker her mood became.

If she didn't want to help all she had to do was say so, she thought angrily. She slid the key into the hatch lock above the "BWARNER" license plate and gave it a turn.

The girl's temper flared as she considered how gullible she had been. I trusted you, Blair. I thought you would keep your word.

She made a decision then and there.

Never again.

******************  
The Executive Vice President stared at the heavy mahogany door for a full minute before he knocked. This wasn't something they had prepared him for at Yale Business School.

He pushed the door open and cleared his throat. "Sir?"

David Warner looked up from the plans he had been studying with his design team. "Steven, come on in. We need your input on this factory renovation..." he tapped at the papers on the table with a finger.

"Sir, I'm terribly sorry to interrupt, but I have something out here," he paused and groped for words, "... something that needs your attention."

The businessman's dark gaze rested firmly on the VP. The younger man didn't yield or offer any further information. That in itself, prompted serious misgivings for the head of Warner Textiles.

Warner excused himself from the meeting and followed his associate to the vice president's office. Once inside, Steven turned and closed the door. He then crossed to his desk where he picked up a parcel.

The head of the corporation folded his arms. "Okay, you've got my attention," he drawled. He cast a suspicious expression toward his associate. "Something tells me that isn't my holiday issue of Sports Illustrated," he commented dryly.

Steven took a deep breath. "This was just messengered over," he handed the thick envelope to his boss. "There is no return address."

Warner reached inside and removed a video cassette. A red silk ribbon was tied about the tape. He frowned wondering what prankster had targeted him, when he noticed the tiny golden object dangling on the ribbon.

He raised the cassette and caught the tiny bit of metal between two fingers to study it. The ring caught the light as he turned it, the ornate "W" monogram glimmering in the setting. He had seen it on many occasions. He remembered when it was presented. His dark eyes widened.

"Oh, my God," he groaned. "Blair!"

****************

Edna Garrett busied herself in the kitchen, gathering the ingredients for the cookies that would go on sale in the morning. The commercial ovens and stove were one of two remaining touches of the shop that had been Edna's Edibles. The other was the tiny sign, rescued from the ashes of the gourmet food shop, that she kept in her corner of the new store.

The vivacious little woman was a whirl of activity as she deposited another bowl into the dishwasher. She dusted her hands on her apron and took stock of her progress.

She tapped each cooling rack as she noted its contents. "Sugar cookies: check! peanut butter cookies: check ... and gingerbread men, um I mean, gingerbread men and women, oh dear!" She exclaimed with a chuckle. She imagined the fit her girls would have if both genders weren't represented.

The redhead smiled, leaned on the countertop and spoke in the direction of the cooling confections. "How about I call you guys 'gingerbread folk?' Hmmm? Right! Okay, ginger folk: check!"

Six dozen or so of each variety were ready, she noted with glee. She glanced at the clock and did a quick calculation to see if there was time to complete the fudge drops before her mid-term exam at the university.

Seeing that there was, she headed off into the brightly lit neon and chrome showroom that was Over Our Heads.

Natalie had just rung up an order when she entered the store. "May you and your new Gumby have many happy adventures together!" she declared to the customer who smiled at the young woman's cheerful spirit.

Mrs. Garrett scooted into place beside Natalie. "Natalie, can I count on you and Tootie to decorate the cookies tonight so they can go on sale tomorrow?" she asked hopefully.

Nat's expressive face scrunched up as though she were in deep thought. "Gee, Mrs. Garrett I don't know," she kidded. "Do we get to eat all our mistakes?" She inquired with a devilish gleam in her eye.

"Only the first four," the older woman countered. Natalie opened her mouth to comment to which Mrs. Garrett replied firmly, "End of negotiations."

"Man, are you tough!" the girl whined. "Okay, you got it, Mrs. G," she consented.

"Great!" The Appleton native glanced at her watch. "Thank you! Now, if I hurry I can get one more batch together before my test," she patted Natalie's back as she moved past her and headed back to the kitchen.

Natalie watched her leave and then looked across the store to where Tootie was sorting wrapping papers, ribbons and boxes. At least, that's where she was when I saw her last, she thought to herself.

As it was now, the wrapping counter looked as if it had exploded. Stacks of bright boxes teetered dangerously close to the edge of the table while curling ribbons festooned in all directions. Natalie approached the garish wad of holiday trappings cautiously.

"Tootie? Hey, Tootie, are you in there?" A mound of multi-color bows moved. Natalie placed her hands on the countertop and peered over it. "Oh, Tooo-ootie!" she trilled in a sing-song manner.

"Walk toward the sound of my voice," she called brightly.

At about this same time, Tootie's head appeared between two stacks of boxes.  
"Very funny, Natalie," was the dry reply from the Eastland senior.

"I'm sorry, I was about to call out the National Guard to help look for you," Nat giggled. "Did you hear? We're on cookie duty tonight. The icing and the sprinkles and the fudge chunks are all ours!" She counted off the items on her fingers as she named them.

Tootie smiled. "This will be our second year to do the artistic cookies!" she beamed. "Finally, Mrs. Garrett has realized we are untapped resources for holiday creativity!" She cleared a section of the countertop, dusting the smaller bows into a box for safe keeping.

"Oh, yeah, that's it," her friend responded with an exaggerated nod. "I'm sure it has nothing to do with the way things turned out the last time the other girls did them."

"They weren't that bad ..." her friend hedged.

"Tootie! Jo turned every gingerbread man into one of the three Stooges!" Nat raised a hand to chin level. "We had Shemps up to here!" They laughed at the recollection.

"Don't forget Blair's cubist Santa Clauses!" Tootie giggled. "I know she's a huge Picasso fan, but couldn't she have at least put their noses in the right places?" The girl shook her head with a nostalgic smile. "It's a wonder those things didn't frighten children!" she chuckled.

************  
"Ms. Warner, you would do well not to try my patience," Grey intoned. He slid a thin finger beneath her collar, frowning at the crimson stains. Blair raised her chin as far away from his hand as possible.

He withdrew his hand and frowned. The girl had openly defied him. There was no other alternative.

Even now, he could see the fury she held toward him blazing in her eyes. He truly expected her to wilt under the verbal assault. It shocked him that the vain, shallow girl he had read so much about in surveillance reports withstood the blows.

Highly irregular, he thought. "Robert, see that Ms. Warner has an opportunity to freshen up," he said as though he were instructing his valet to escort her to the ladies room.

************  
Mrs. Garrett gathered the mixing bowl into her arm as she stirred the sugar and butter together. On the stove, the double boiler rattled as the chocolate pieces melted into a thick creamy ooze.

She turned the heavy crock around and worked the mixture diligently with a firm hand, scraping the edges of the bowl to make the most of her ingredients. The sound of Natalie and Tootie's laughter drifted into the kitchen and she smiled.

It wouldn't be long before they went their separate ways for the holidays, she thought to herself. This year everyone had plans. The younger girls were going home to their parents, the older ones were flying out west to ski and she was off to spend time with her son and daughter-in-law.

After all these years, why is it still so hard? she wondered as she peeked at the chocolate to make sure it didn't scorch. Between every semester, every summer and every holiday the house would empty -- and while a little peace and quiet was a welcome change of pace -- she would soon find herself anxiously awaiting the noise.

Because with these four young women there was always noise. Some yelling, sure. But mostly laughter. A bit of singing and lots of conversation. The memories and emotions that came rushing forward caught her by surprise.

The harsh jangle of the telephone pulled her out of her recollections. She answered it, tucking the receiver under her chin so she could continue stirring the butter.

"Hello? Oh, hello, Mr. Warner!" she said happily. "If you're looking for Blair, I'm afraid you've missed her. She and Jo are out collecting gifts for the children at the shelter ... " she paused and looked toward the message board.

"Would you like her to call you back? They shouldn't be gone too much longer," she offered. She stirred absently as she listened to the deep voice on the other end of the connection.

"When? Well, let's see, they left around noon." She stuck the spatula into the bowl and used her free hand to grasp the receiver. "Yes, they took Blair's car." A sliver of alarm had begun to resonate within the petite redhead.

"Mr. Warner, forgive me, but you're beginning to worry me," she chuckled nervously. "You seem rather desperate to reach Blair, is everything all right?"

She absorbed the news as well as could be expected. She agreed with him on the next best course of action. After their conversation ended, the impact of the man's message had left her in a daze. She hung up the phone in a robotic motion as the mixing bowl slipped from her hands. It shattered on the blue tile floor, sending clattering chunks of pottery all around her feet.

**********

The sound of the crash carried all the way into the showroom.

"Mrs. Garrett!" Tootie Ramsey skidded to a halt as she bounded into the kitchen. She knelt down next to the buttery mess and gingerly picked up several of the larger remaining pieces of bowl.

Tootie grimaced. "Oh no, this was your favorite wasn't it?" she asked softly, her large brown eyes showing her dismay at her mentor's loss. Mrs. Garrett's mouth turned up slightly at one corner in a half-hearted version of a smile.

"It's all right, Tootie," she explained as she knelt to help clean up the soggy puddle. "It's just a bowl."

"But this was from the set we got you when you first went into the catering business," protested the girl as she whisked the shards into a dustpan.

Edna nodded as she wiped the worst of the goo from the floor. She remembered well the fanfare that had accompanied their presentation. That was a memory she treasured more than the bowls themselves.

She looked up in time to notice her helper's glum expression so she reached out and lifted the student's chin up to meet her gaze.

"I know that, but there are many things more important to me in this world than mixing bowls!" she said, giving the girl's cheek a pat to emphasize her point.

Tootie's eyes brightened at the comment and she surveyed their work. The floor was good as new. "Looks like we took care of that!" she announced brightly as she stood and moved to the sink to wash her hands.

"That we did, that we did," murmured Mrs. Garrett. She rose, rested a hand over her throat and wondered how to explain what had happened to her young charges.

"Tootie, would you mind asking Natalie to come in here for a few moments? I have something I have to tell you."

***************  
Blair winced as she patted dry the area around her mouth. She frowned at her image in the dusty mirror. Out of habit she raised a hand and rearranged her bangs, a shiny handcuff rattling as she primped. She straightened her shoulders and buttoned her sweater, smoothing it over her slacks.

What are you doing? she thought as she realized the absurdity of her actions. The ghost of a smile crossed her face. If the situation hadn't been so grim she would've laughed.

Now what? she wondered. She looked at the door to the small bathroom. It didn't have a lock. She sat down on the edge of the bathtub and tried to devise a plan.

She rubbed her aching jaw. That last idea I had didn't work out so well, she admitted to herself. Still, she felt a certain amount of pride at not buckling to Grey's demand that she beg her father for help.

She wondered how much time had passed and noticed idly that her wrists were scuffed and raw from the handcuffs.

There was a rap on the door. "Okay, okay, just a minute," she announced in a loud voice. She gave the toilet a flush to buy a few extra seconds of privacy.

Okay, Jo, she thought. Keep your promise.

****************

Jo had long since run out of patience. She threw open the door and scanned the room. Mrs. Garrett rose from the couch at the blustery entrance. Natalie and Tootie flinched as the door was slammed nearly off its hinges.

The brunette advanced to the center of the room and then stopped abruptly. She bit off each word. "Where is Blair?"

"She can't still be showing those bozos around? No wait, let me guess. She's gone shopping, hasn't she? No, no ... better yet. She remembered a late date and blew off the shelter." Jo stomped toward the closet and removed her coat.

"And to think I actually thought she was going to come through this time," she shook her head angrily. "That's it. I mean it. Mrs. G, I've had it up to here with Miss Debutante," she fished in her jacket pocket until she grabbed the car keys and then hung the garment in the closet.

Mrs. Garrett waited for the girl to finish. "Jo, listen to me..."

The brunette closed the closet door with a forceful shove. "Forget about it. The only thing on Blair's mind is Blair. The sooner we all accept that -- and quit depending on her for anything - - the better off we'll all be!"

"You don't mean that!" blurted Tootie who was quieted when Natalie moved to stand beside her.

"When did you last see Blair? What did she say to you?" Mrs. Garrett interrupted.

Jo whirled about and raised her hands in emphasis. "Get this! This is classic Warner! Here she is, ditching our plans to show some rich friends of her dad's around town and she made me promise to check her messages when I got home. Can you believe it? Wanting me to look after her appointments until she got back!"

Mrs. Garrett's red head swiveled about to address the other girls. "Natalie..."

"I'm way ahead of you Mrs. Garrett, there aren't any new messages on our machine."

"You're positive?"

"It was the first thing I checked when Mr. Warner got here."

For the first time, Jo noted the somber tone of her friends. "Blair's dad's here?" she asked. David Warner missed birthdays and graduations. At times he seemed oblivious to the fact that he even had a daughter. But according to Natalie, he was here.

Jo took a breath. Her anger evaporated into apprehension. Something was wrong. "What's going on?" she demanded.

Mrs. Garrett took a step closer to Blair's roommate who responded by stepping out of arms reach. Tootie and Natalie looked away when she tried to make eye contact. Finally, her hard gaze settled on Mrs. Garrett.

Something was very wrong.

"Is she all right?"

Mrs. Garrett started to advance again but merely folded her hands in front of her. "We don't know, honey," she answered as gently as she could.

"Blair has been kidnapped. Mr. Warner said that the kidnappers had promised not to harm her and to release her as soon as he met their demands."

Green eyes blinked as Jo registered what she was being told. I was there. It was them, she scowled. She jingled the Porsche's keys in her hand, studying them. The memory came back easily: there they were, standing on the street, surrounded by Mr. Grey's entourage.

> Blair handed her car keys to Jo. "Just get out of here, okay? I'll catch up with you later on."
> 
> "Remember, don't take all day. We've got a lot of ground to cover if this program is going to work," Jo admonished her friend.
> 
> "I know that. Go on, leave. You're going to be late for the next appointment if you don't hurry," she urged.
> 
> Jo nodded and stepped around to the driver's side door. "All right then, I'll see you later."
> 
> Blair stepped back up on the curb. "Jo..."
> 
> "Yeah?"
> 
> "Do me a favor?" the blonde asked hesitantly.
> 
> "Sure. What is it?"
> 
> "Promise me you'll check my messages. It's important. Promise."
> 
> "I promise. Listen, I've really got to go."
> 
> "I know. Me too." A small smile. "See you soon."

Tootie gave her friend's arm a gentle shake. "Jo, are you all right?"

The tall brunette shook her head slowly. "I've got a really bad feeling about this," she looked at keys in her hand and at the gadget to which they were attached. It was an electronic reminder, one of those little forty-five second recorders that were becoming popular.

She pushed the play button and a man's voice sprang from the device.

"...such a pity. Her life snuffed out, a victim of street crime," he threatened.

Blair's voice was rigid with fear. "No! Don't hurt her!" She paused. "Give me two minutes and I'll get rid of her. No tricks. She leaves unharmed and I'll climb in that van without a protest."

"Very well, Ms. Warner. Remember, we are watching you... and your friend."

There were a few seconds of traffic noise and footsteps then Blair's voice sounded again, this time bright and airy. "Hey, Jo! Listen, I hate to do this..." and the recorder clicked off.

The brunette's jaw clenched. She felt her stomach lurch. That had been around one o'clock. It was past eight now. They could be out of the state or out of the country, she admitted dejectedly. Jo punched "play" again and they each strained to hear the recording.

"A van. She said something about a van..." Tootie offered.

The brunette closed her eyes and listened to the recording again. "I don't remember a van on the street."

Edna eased an arm around Jo's tense shoulders. "Relax, think about it. Look around in your memory," Mrs. Garrett soothed.

Jo shook her head. "There were a lot of people around and I wasn't paying attention," she announced bluntly. "Wait, yeah, there was a navy blue Ford parked in front of the dry cleaners."

"That's a start. Tootie, grab our coats. We've got to get this information to the police."

****************

Tootie's deep brown eyes looked about the station apprehensively. It seemed like ages ago that the four girls had been hauled in by one very angry, and as she remembered it, very soggy undercover cop.

Who knew that our little trip to the Chugalug bar would send us off on the adventures of the past five years, she mused. She crossed her arms and leaned against the wall as she waited at the rear of the station.

The place hasn't changed that much, she decided. She could see the bench that she and Natalie had sat on while Mrs. Garrett explained their punishment and probation to the girls. She smiled to herself, remembering that at the time of the lecture, her feet didn't even touch the floor.

The door to her left banged open and allowed a frigid gush of wind into the station house. Two women, both dressed in tight dresses and high heels, were escorted to the duty sergeant. She overheard the words loitering and solicitation before the women were taken further into the station.

Typewriters clicked noisily at the desks that sat to either side of the center aisle. At each battered desktop, detectives hammered out reports as they interviewed the citizens who were filing complaints.

Near the front of the room, a woman wept openly as she detailed for the detective the items stolen from her apartment. A little boy sat uneasily on her lap and gnawed at the end of a candy cane. He turned his gooey face toward the girl and smiled a baby-toothed grin.

Tootie grinned in response and received a sticky fingered wave from the child in return. His mother wailed again and he turned away, leaning his head into the crook of her neck in a child's gesture of comfort.

The Eastland senior frowned. A disturbance to her right caused her to step away from the hallway that led to the other offices. The scuffling footsteps revealed a tall plain clothes detective who jerked a struggling suspect to a halt in front of the night sergeant's desk. He paused just long enough to deposit plastic bag on counter. The clear envelope landed with a thud.

"You piece of crap!" the subject spat as he kicked at the cop's feet. "That isn't mine!" he shouted. "No body, no crime!" The sergeant lifted the bag by a corner, the weapon, a .35 caliber pistol was tagged for admission into evidence.

The detective herded the handcuffed man between the desks on his way to the holding cells. The suspect cursed the cop unmercifully. Tootie shivered as she looked around the station again.

The place may not have changed much, but the people sure have. Was the world always this ugly? she wondered.

The door opened again, this time to admit a couple of officers with two teenage boys in handcuffs. The cold wind whipped through the entryway again and ruffled the posters on the bulletin board behind Tootie's head.

She turned about and considered the fliers that bedecked the well worn board. It looked as though a million staples and thumbtacks had left their marks on the weathered cork.

A bright banner proclaimed a program to help keep kids off drugs. Down in the corner was a notice about shelters and church run facilities that offered safe places to sleep with the hopes of turning a few lives around.

However, she noted dispiritedly, the majority of the large expanse was covered with data sheets on missing persons. The top of each sheet contained a photograph and people of all ages and colors were represented. To the sensitive girl, it seemed that far too many of them were school pictures.

Beneath the photos came a description, a sort of laundry list of things that would help identify the person. The last details were the final time the person had been seen along with information about who to contact if they were sighted again.

Tootie swallowed hard. The little boy with the gap-toothed grin had been missing since 1982. The elderly man with the fishing cap disappeared two summers ago. The smiling lady in the business suit had never made it home from a business trip in the fall of 1985.

One by one she studied the faces, making a silent promise to watch for them. After all, for every person on that board there were family and friends waiting for them to return.

Just like us, she thought. The similarity of the situations caused a shiver to run down the girl's spine. Was that what they had to look forward to? she wondered. Blair's picture posted in dingy police stations in the hopes that someone, somewhere would recognize her?

Feeling a little shaky, she sat down in front of the board. She took a moment to try and calm her nerves.

It isn't as if I'm completely naive. I know that people do bad things. She heard what sounded like a cell door close at the far end of the building.

It just never occurred to me that the bad things would touch any of us, she thought sadly.

She looked down the hallway and wished that Mrs. Garrett would return and tell her what was taking so long.

"Excuse me, but do you happen to work at Over Our Heads?"

Tootie looked up, her face registering surprise. She hadn't even heard the woman approach. "Hmm? Yes, I do," she answered cautiously.

The detective smiled. She had shoulder length blonde hair cut to frame her face and wore a tweed blazer over her blue jeans. Actually, Tootie thought, she looks like she ought to be working at the mall not catching criminals.

"I thought I recognized you. Tootie, isn't it?" Tootie nodded slowly.

The cop extended her hand. "Detective Kate Drury. You guys helped us put that counterfeiting ring out of business," she paused as they shook hands. "So, what happened? Did you pass your history test?"

Tootie's expression brightened. "Are you kidding? I aced it! Thanks to your tutoring, of course," she smiled.

"You'll have to forgive me for not recognizing you," she admitted sheepishly. "It's just the last time we spoke, you looked a lot like a walkie-talkie!"

Det. Drury chuckled. "I suppose I am a lot taller in person," she quipped.

"I'll say!" The senior giggled and then fell silent.

"What brings you down here? Is everything okay?" the detective asked as she dropped into a seat beside the solemn teenager. Tootie recounted the events as best she could and explained how long she had been waiting on Mrs. Garrett and Jo to return.

Drury stood up and rested her hands on her hips. "Well, that explains a thing or two," she said grimly.

"Like what?"  
The older woman's blue eyes narrowed as she stared down the hallway toward the interrogation rooms and other offices. "Why the FBI arrived and set up shop here earlier this afternoon."

"I really don't think I like the sound of that," admitted Tootie. She looked up apprehensively. "Do you think you can help me find Mrs. Garrett?"

The detective didn't even hesitate. "You bet I can."

***************  
The man beside Mrs. Garrett scratched absently at his beard. He watched as the woman fidgeted in her chair. He felt sorry for her, this was only the beginning and there were no guarantees.

They sat in silence at the rear of the room. Before them, under a pool of fluorescent light a man and a woman deliberated over a conference table.

The sketch artist's stomach rumbled and he clenched a hand over his middle in embarrassment, making a terrible face as he did so.

Mrs. Garrett smiled at the fellow's antics and nodded at his plight. He laid his sketchbook on the chair to his left and leaned toward the redhead.

"I'm headed to the snack machine. Can I get you something?" he whispered. "Cup of coffee? Can of soda?" He winked and grinned. "Empty sugar-filled calories of some sort?"

Edna smiled at his thoughtfulness. "No, but thank you," she replied. The lanky young man nodded and quietly left the room.

Mrs. Garrett checked her watch again. The dainty timepiece revealed that it was 10:45 p.m.

It had been nearly three hours since they arrived at the station. In that time, Jo had been interviewed by at least two different teams of investigators, Mr. Warner had been in conference with the FBI, and Tootie had gone back to the house to retrieve a recent picture of Blair.

Edna recalled how heavy hearted the teen appeared when she returned with the photo. It broke your heart just to look at her, she thought sadly. Tootie Ramsey was their resident photographer. If something happened in their lives -- big or small -- Tootie caught it on film.

She had selected two snapshots taken just a few weeks earlier during family weekend at the college. The first, a close up, was just a great picture of Blair being Blair. Not a hair out of place, the girl looked straight at the camera and turned on the charm.

The second picture, Tootie had snapped in an unguarded moment and it showed the girl from head to toe, standing with her hand on the back of a chair and watching something just out of frame. This time her smile was warmer, almost winsome or maybe an instant ahead of a laugh.

It took Edna only seconds to determine the time, place and what Blair had been watching. After the dishes had been cleared, Jo had begun teasing her father about his weight. Charlie took the ribbing good-naturedly until his daughter began patting his belly to illustrate her points. Then he had retaliated by tickling the girl and the two of them laughed and battled their way all over the couch.

It was a silly, joy filled moment between a father and his daughter that had captured the blonde's attention. That was the real Blair Warner.

The later it got, the more grateful Mrs. Garrett became that she had sent Tootie home. She had convinced her that Natalie would appreciate the company since the other girl had remained by the telephone in the event that Blair would call.

The call never came.

**********

Agent Vincent Romano looked over the composite drawings again. "Are you sure?" he asked for the third time in the last hour. He sat on the corner of the table and looked down at the witness.

Tired green eyes swept over the sketches again. She reassessed the last two attempts and compared it with the first. The features had gotten further refined and more detail had been brought into the drawings as they progressed.

The brunette leaned against her upraised hands and let her palms cover her tightly closed her eyes. She thought back to the moment of their introduction. She saw the thin lipped smile, watched him tip his hat toward her.

She removed her hands from her eyes and looked down. A black and white illustration stared back at her from the tabletop. She lifted the drawing and scooted it toward the agent.

"Yeah, I'm sure. That's him."

Agent Romano nodded and took the offered piece of paper. "Good work, Miss Polniaczek. I'm going to pass this along to the bureau and we'll see what we can find out."

He stood up and walked out of the room. Halfway down the hallway, he heard the creak of the heavy table being shoved. If he had returned to the office, he would've seen the brunette pacing the length of the room.

"How could I be so stupid!" she hissed. Mrs. Garrett stood up but allowed the girl the freedom to move about.

"No one could know this was about to happen," she said gently. "Jo, this wasn't your fault."

The girl made another revolution, shaking her head in disbelief as she stalked about.

She stopped abruptly and stared at her mentor. "Sure it is, Mrs. G. You heard the tape!" she shouted. Edna stepped a little closer to her friend.

"But I didn't, did I?" Jo said bitterly. A painful laugh escaped the girl. "No, I was way too busy being angry, and now... " her voice broke.

"And now you're doing everything you can to help find her," Mrs. Garrett reasoned. It hurt her to see one of her girls in so much pain. She inched closer to the volatile young woman.

"I thought Blair was being selfish," Jo whispered. The brunette's vision shimmered and she blinked, letting the first of the pent-up tears fall freely.

Her expressive green eyes carried a wounded look. "She left with them b-because of me," she said.

"She didn't want you to be hurt," Mrs. Garrett said delicately. "She did what she did because she cares about you. She wouldn't want you blaming yourself now, either."

Jo grimaced as a sob caught in her throat. Mrs. Garrett closed the distance between them, the older woman reaching out to catch the girl who fell onto her shoulder.

Mrs. Garrett rubbed a soothing pattern on the girl's back as she cried. She wondered if anyone else knew how sensitive the young woman behind the tough girl facade really was?

Once the onslaught of tears had subsided, Jo whispered a question so softly that Edna first thought she had imagined it.

That couldn't be, could it? she wondered. But after all, this was Jo who was proud of proclaiming she wasn't good with sentimental stuff. Telling a friend how much they mean to you would definitely fall under sentimental stuff.

She smiled and kissed the top of the girl's dark head. "It's all right, Jo. Blair knows. She knows," she answered with absolute certainty.

************  
"I'm afraid we have a problem," he said gravely as he spread out the messages on the table. The faxed reports covered a third of the object's surface.

David Warner scooped up one of the sheets. "What is all this?"

"These are instances of credit card transactions in the last twenty-four hours," Agent Romano answered as he turned and began scribbling on the dry-erase board on the wall. "All are on cards belonging to your daughter. Each bears her signature."

"We've got hits in Miami, Chicago, Los Angeles, and Dallas," he said. "Plus one in Denver, Colorado." He turned and looked at Jo, pointing at her with the marker.

"You said you and Blair were planning a ski trip, right?"

"Yes," she answered somewhat defensively. "But not until the twenty-second and not in Denver." She looked at David, then at the agent and slapped the table with her palm.

"Forget about it!" She leaned over the table and pointed at one of the faxes. "I don't care what this says, Blair isn't off on some shopping spree," she protested.

Romano recapped his writing instrument calmly. "It's happened before. Sometimes wealthy young women forget to tell their family and friends about their plans. Especially if they think people won't approve," he explained.

He pulled out a chair, turned it about and straddled it, leaning over its back as he continued. "They get a little bored, decide to do something to shake up their lives and get a little attention," he said.

"Not Blair," said David firmly. The agent shrugged.

"You spend a lot of time with your daughter, Mr. Warner?"

Blair's father swallowed hard. "We see one another when our schedules allow."

"I see," Romano replied knowingly. "So you really can't say for certain what she might do, can you? Perhaps to get your attention?"

Jo's green eyes glittered angrily at the insinuations. "I know what she wouldn't do," she interrupted. "She wouldn't fake a kidnapping. That is what you're driving at, isn't it?" She stood up and glared down at the seated agent.

"You think this whole deal is a scam? Is that the best that you can do, pal?" she seethed. The agent regarded her with a cool stare.

Another agent burst into the room carrying more papers. "Here's the timeline you requested, Agent Romano."

Romano grabbed the report and returned to the message board. He began noting times beside the cities. Jo watched as he completed the chart.

Warner stood and put a hand on the brunette's shoulder. "Agent, I have learned to never underestimate my daughter. She is capable of most anything she puts her mind to, however, even she can't be in two places at once," he said mannerly.

He pointed at the agent's notes. "Convert your timezones and you'll see that all of these transactions took place within minutes of one another," he noted with satisfaction. Jo smiled in agreement.

"You're right," admitted the FBI agent. He muttered something under his breath and scrubbed a hand over his face. "That's the good news and the bad news."

He began making notes to the left of the city names. Los Angeles International Airport. Chicago O'Hare. Dallas Ft. Worth. Miami.

International airports, she realized. Each city was a hub for flights leaving the country. Jo put a comforting hand on the businessman's back. They could be anywhere.

Anywhere at all.

************

Monica Warner didn't so much enter a room as she overwhelmed it. The doorbell had just faded and Jo had barely opened the door when she was gathered into the arms of the well-coifed, immaculately attired woman.

"Hey, Mon-n, er ah, oof!" she grunted. The next thing she knew her nose was being tickled by the fur collar on the wealthy divorcee's coat. A firm hug later, the brunette found herself being held at arms length while serious brown eyes gave her the once-over.

Much like a lioness would inspect her cubs. Even the adopted ones, from the Bronx, mused Jo. Her lips quirked into a small smile. Though she doubted she would ever fully understand the way Blair's family worked, she had grown fond of the whole lot of them.

Monica gave Jo's hand a final squeeze and began doffing her coat. "Any news?" the woman asked.

Jo took the heavy garment and shook her head sadly. "Nothing yet. I've given descriptions to all the agencies and they're working on it," she answered.

Her face took on a pinched expression upon hearing this latest report. Mrs. Warner worked as hard on maintaining her appearance as did her daughter and yet it was obvious to Jo that she was exhausted and frantic with worry.

Tootie and Natalie took this opportunity to greet the socialite with heart-felt hugs.

"Girls! How are you!" she responded brightly as she gathered each under an arm and walked them toward the sofa. Monica had a way of putting just the right throaty emphasis on words. It was showy, it was dramatic and it was second nature to the woman.

"We're fine, Mrs. Warner. How are you doing?" Tootie asked gently as the trio settled onto the couch. Meanwhile, Jo disappeared into the kitchen to inform Mrs. Garrett that they had a new guest.

Monica ran a hand along the scarf she wore about her throat, smoothing the silk in an unconscious motion. "To be honest, I have no idea," she answered as she looked from one girl to the other.

"When David's father called, I thought I might just shatter into little pieces on the spot. Then I got furiously angry. Then fear and doubt crept in," she sighed as Tootie nodded sympathetically.

Monica raised her hands in a gesture of surrender. "Then Bailey began crying and so we cried for a while. The both of us," she paused for effect, "Loudly."

"I did that, too," admitted Tootie.

Natalie pointed at her roommate. "Half a box of Kleenex," she offered with a nod.

Mrs. Warner smiled. "So, sometime after I realized I had out-cried my one-year-old, I decided I had better make some arrangements and get on the road to Peekskill."

She cocked an eyebrow and nudged Natalie. "Before you ask... no, I didn't leave Bailey in the car," she joked. The girls laughed softly. "My sister is looking after her until this whole thing is resolved."

"Then we'll be seeing Bailey soon," Natalie commented hopefully. Tootie nodded and gave Mrs. Warner's shoulder a squeeze.

"Absolutely," she said.

*****************  
She heard the rasp of the key in the lock and scooted to the end of the sofa, keeping her eyes on the door. A routine had been established. Every eight hours or so she guessed, Paul would enter the room and deposit a sandwich and a soft drink on the endtable. Then, without a word he would leave and she was left on her own.

She had never seen him without the dark sunglasses, no doubt an attempt to shield his identity. That has to be a good thing, she decided.

He closed the door and locked it. "Nice talking to you!" she waved at the barricaded passage.

Blair collected her breakfast and settled in cross-legged on the sofa. Actually, she thought the sturdy young man was ruggedly handsome. Just the sort that would appeal to me, if of course he were in a different line of work, she mused.

She unwrapped the top of her sandwich and took a bite. Nope, the whole kidnapper thing was a deal-breaker. No dates for him, she rationalized as she chewed her ham and cheese.

Her eyes scanned the bare room. It was sealed up as tightly as a vault. The windows had been fastened away from her. A couple of tables, a couple of lamps, a small sofa and the entrance to a tiny bathroom.

She frowned at the faded wallpaper. Not much to write home about, she mused.

Home. Her mind kept wandering to the people she cared about. I suppose under the circumstances that's normal, she thought sadly.

It was difficult to consider what this ordeal was probably doing to her family and friends. Everytime she imagined it from their side -- it tore at her heart until tears were seconds away. Then she'd push it out of her mind again.

But it always -- always -- came back.

With a sigh, she explored the brown paper sack for something else to eat.   
Fastening her hand on a snack size bag of potato chips she pulled them out and unwrapped the rest of her sandwich.

What the...?

Tucked inside the wax paper with the sandwich were a trio of pickle slices. Each had been cut into the shape of a heart. She lifted one and scrutinized it to be sure.

She smiled at the little bit of cucumber. Once upon a time, a little shop called Edna's Edibles had competition from a deli owner whose slogan was 'You'll love our sandwiches.' The pickle bit was his idea of a gimmick.

As she remembered, Natalie and Tootie had nearly driven them all to distraction trying to come up with a more clever idea.

Blair shook her head as she realized that all of the driving and silly blindfolding business was a diversion. They wanted to keep her off balance. Make her feel more helpless.

Make me feel lost, she thought angrily. But I'm not lost at all.

"I'm in Peekskill."

******************  
David Warner pushed the omelet around with his fork. "Thank you for having me over, Edna," he said as he rested his hand against the edge of the plate. "I didn't think I could bear another moment in that police station," he admitted grimly.

"I'm glad you took me up on my invitation," she smiled. She frowned at his plate. "Is your breakfast okay? Maybe you'd prefer something else?" He hadn't touched his food.

The tall businessman looked down and then faced his hostess. "The omelet is superb, I'm afraid it's my appetite that's lacking," he said frankly as he pushed the dish away from him.

Mrs. Garrett watched as he rubbed a hand across his eyes as she refilled his coffee cup. The man was clearly exhausted. His shoulders slumped wearily and he kept sneaking glances at the cellular telephone that he had laid on the table beside him.

The suit and tie were the ones he had on the previous day when his meeting had been interrupted and his life thrown into chaos. Then came the long night at the headquarters set up by the FBI at the Peekskill Police Station, she shook her head as she remembered the recent events.

She and Jo had been at the station house till well past eleven themselves. The agents had rigorously interviewed the girl gathering details that might help them identify the kidnappers.

Meanwhile about two doors away, Warner had been huddled with the FBI going over strategies and reviewing the videotape that had been delivered to his office. The man was treated to a crash course in hostage negotiations that would've been crass and unfeeling if he had no relationship to the abductee.

However, this was his only daughter. That made it agonizing.

He stirred a spoonful of sugar into his coffee. "You know, I never doubted my ability to make money," he said. "Give me a business in trouble and I can look it over," he snapped his fingers, "... and turn it around."

"You get to know the work flow, you research the business structure, you learn about the board of directors," he described the process in quick rapid strokes as Mrs. Garrett listened.

"Then comes this moment of clarity and you see exactly what you need to do," he said quietly as he took a sip from the mug.

The redhead nodded knowingly, she wasn't sure they were still talking about big business anymore. "When you get that clear vision, are you always sure about how you should proceed?" she asked.

He answered without hesitation, "Always." He leaned back in his chair and Warner's eyes took on a haunted look. "The girls were showing me the Christmas tree this morning," he said.

"It's beautiful, you know," he smiled. "Tootie showed me Blair's ornaments," he said referring to the dainty disks the girl had been painting since she first arrived at Eastland. "One a year, every year," he commented.

"Oh, yes, she's nearly finished the whole Twelve Days of Christmas!" Edna announced brightly. "This year was eleven piper's piping. They're remarkable!"

"That they are," he agreed. "Natalie also told me about the Christmas the five of you entertained at a prison."

Mrs. Garrett blushed and covered her face with a hand. "The Nickelby House," she smiled. "I think we did a pretty good job, if I do say so myself. Of course, we did have a captive audience," she chuckled.

David smiled at her appraisal of their audience. He leaned forward again. "She said ..." he paused and thought about what his next question would reveal. He considered the woman before him who had looked after his daughter for so many years.

"She said that Blair sang?" he asked almost timidly.

Mrs. Garrett clasped her hands together. "She did and she was magnificent," she beamed. "Such a strong voice and she makes it look so easy," she remarked.

Warner coughed into his fist. He could quote facts and figures on every enterprise he had ever been associated with -- save one.

"David are you all right," she asked. The man's face looked ashen and she feared he might be ill.

He nodded once and smiled ruefully. "I had no idea," he said. "I'm her father and I had no idea she could sing."

Jo Polniaczek stopped in her tracks. She wished she hadn't heard that. The brunette had come to let Mrs. G. know that Blair's mother had arrived.

The brunette turned the corner and entered the room with her news. David nodded cordially and stood up.

"Edna, thank you, for everything," he said sincerely. "Will you excuse me or a moment," he patted Jo's shoulder as she escorted him toward the living room and his ex-wife.

*******************

The sound of the slap reverberated in the now silent living room.

The girls were completely unprepared for the welcome that Monica gave Blair's father. Natalie nudged Tootie, indicating that they should leave. When Tootie didn't budge, Nat gave her a pinch to get her attention and then tugged her away from the unfolding drama. Jo followed them as far as the door to the hallway, but something made her stay in the room with the Warners.

David Warner fingered his jaw. "Monica, I don't think you understand..." he responded calmly.

"Understand what? That you were too wrapped up in getting the proper public relations spin on my daughter's kidnapping to even let me know it had happened?" she seethed.

Jo frowned and gnawed at her lower lip. Is it possible for things to get any worse? she wondered.

"Tell me, David, exactly when would it have been appropriate to let me know she was missing? Tomorrow? Two days from now? Or perhaps when they called me to identify her..." she gasped, her voice strangling in her throat at the mere thought.

"It's not like that at all -- and you know it," he countered. "There are rules about how to proceed in cases like this," he offered.

"Rules! Well, forgive me but I seemed to miss this chapter in my parenting handbook." She laughed, a mirthless chuckle. "Of course, the great David Warner would have a contingency plan! How foolish of me to think you would react to this as a father would," she commented coldly.

"You've always been a big believer in the bottom line. What do your financial advisors say this time? Too much risk? Too large an investment for little return?"

"Are you enjoying yourself?" He spat the question out bitterly. "How can you even ask me a question like that?"

"Easily. I was married to you for eight years. It wouldn't be the first time you chose business over your family."

Oh, terrific, thought Jo. As if there isn't enough hurt to go around. She watched as the remark took it's toll.

Monica's comment cut the mogul like a blade. Warner's mouth dropped open in disbelief. He pointed at his accuser and then waved off whatever he had meant to say. Instead, he turned and began walking out of the room.

The brunette in the doorway clenched her hands into fists. It's none of my business. It's none of my business... oh, to hell with that! she decided.

Jo brushed past him to stand between the warring couple. "What is it with you people?" she asked. The question came out more forcefully than it probably should have but she didn't really care.

The point was she had their attention

"This is not about you -- either of you. In case it slipped your mind, your daughter is in trouble and this is not helping," she announced to the stunned Warners. The couple looked at the young woman before them and then back to one another.

Neither spoke. Monica turned on her heel and folded her arms, staring through the French doors onto the patio.

However, there was a Polish temper in charge now. "You know what? Forget about it. Go ahead and grind each other up," she challenged the man and woman.

"Hey, don't let me stop you," she taunted. "As soon as we find Blair, her first chore can be making peace between her parents. That'll be one hell of a homecoming for her, don't 'cha think?"

**************

"Ouch! Natalie! That was completely unnecessary!" Tootie pouted as she rubbed her upper arm.

Nat plopped down on a stool in the kitchen and folded her arms. "Well, it seemed easier than renting a team of wild horses to drag you outta there!"

"You didn't drag Jo," the Eastland senior griped.

Her friend snorted and tapped her chin in a thoughtful manner. "A calculated move on my part to keep all my original body parts," she quipped.

"Are you nuts? Yeah, like I'm going to go up against Jo. The only person stupid enough to do that is Blair!" Nat giggled and then gasped as she realized what she had said.

One hand flew to her mouth and she mumbled around it. "Oooh, that was a terrible thing to say," she said softly.

"No, it wasn't."

"Tootie, that was horrible of me!"

Her friend propped a hand on one hip and leveled a knowing gaze at the writer. "It wasn't any worse than usual. You've said a ton of things about Blair that were meaner than that. About her hair, about her boyfriends, lots of stuff."

Nat's head tilted slightly to the side as she recalled some of her better zingers. "Well, then, yeah. But not now."

"Natalie, cut it out. Just cut it out. Don't you dare get all reverential -- it's like you're afraid of speaking ill of the dead!" Tootie glared at her friend. "Well? Isn't it?"

Nat's eyes grew wider. "But it's not... I mean, I didn't ... I just... aw, geez Tootie!" she sputtered. "Since when are you so insightful?"

The teenager folder her arms in a haughty fashion. "Since forever. You just never notice."

******************

Natalie drew her feet up on to the couch and balanced her cereal bowl with one hand as she fished for the remote control. She latched onto it and clicked the set to life.

Another perk of keeping weird hours was getting to have cereal in the afternoon, she thought to herself. Not that anyone has gotten much rest for the past two days.

I can't believe Tootie went to class, she thought with a shake of her head. After a moment's reflection, she remembered it was Friday and the senior couldn't afford to miss taking her mid-term exams.

The channels flashed by as she punched at the button. Boring, boring ... oh, look, Gilligan! she paused. Nope, I've seen it, she decided and began passing through the stations again.

Huh?! She nearly spilled her bowl, the cornflakes sloshing dangerously close to the rim as she switched buttons and clicked the tuner backward to confirm what she thought she saw.

Natalie scowled at the television. "I do not believe this!" she yelled at the screen.

Boots St. Claire was being interviewed on television. "Mrs. Garrett! Jo!" she hollered as she put her bowl on the coffee table.

The logos on the reporters' microphones revealed a host of stations from at least three states. The electronic type splashed across the bottom of the screen displayed the heading: Boots St. Claire, friend of abductee.

"Will you guys GET IN HERE!" she bellowed at the top of her lungs. She turned up the volume of the set as St. Claire prattled on about Blair to the press.

Mrs. Garrett came scurrying into the room, a dish towel still in her hands. "Natalie! What's all the screaming about?"

Upstairs, Jo hit the landing at a run. "What?!" she exclaimed as she  
grabbed the railing to steady herself and continued her pace down the stairs.

Natalie pointed disgustedly at the screen where the sorority girl lamented to the horde of reporters.

" ... it's just so tragic," said Boots. "Why just the other day, Warnsy and I were chatting away, you know, girl talk, and today she's ripped away from us, taken God knows where!"

"About that 'girl talk,' the way I heard it, Blair told her to drop dead," Nat corrected to set the record straight. Jo leaned over the back of the couch and stared at the screen.

Mrs. Garrett had joined Natalie on the couch. She listened as the girl on the television blithely answered questions about Blair and her family. "How can she say such things? She has no right!" She swatted the set with the towel she still held in her hand.

Jo clenched her fists. It was a gut level response to the polished lies that kept rolling out of the preppie's mouth.

"She's scum!" sneered the brunette. If Mrs. G. weren't here, I'd describe just exactly what I think you are, Boots. She glared at the chattering image of the preppie.

Somebody leaked the story to the media, thought Jo angrily. "I thought they were going to keep a lid on this thing." According to Agent Romano, Blair was safe as long as the kidnappers thought they had the upper hand.

"Journalists have ways of finding out things you don't want them to," admitted Natalie glumly. She felt a little sick that the profession she held so dear was jeopardizing her friend.

Boots faded from view and her image was replaced with a Langley News broadcast from earlier in the semester. The trio of friends watched in shocked silence as the video played.

Blair turned toward the camera and confidently delivered the top story, the next shots featured still photos from the college yearbook, and a color shot of the homecoming ceremony.

They had even dug up a photo from Eastland and the camera zoomed in on a cute fourteen-year-old in riding clothes with a horse. Each likeness faded away as a voice over gravely described the young woman.

At the end of the piece, the station cut back to the live news feed and there was Boots again. Jo's eyes narrowed. From this angle, she could see more of the area around the girl.

"They're on the street in front of the shop!" she asserted as she jumped up and grabbed her jacket.

"Jo," Mrs. Garrett rose and reminded the girl about Mr. Warner's wishes. "Don't do anything in haste that will make matters worse," she cautioned.

The brunette nodded solemnly. At about this time in the live interview a reporter asked if the missing socialite had ever been in trouble to which the preppie replied, "Just a teensy thing."

Mrs. Garrett's head whipped around and she glared at the flickering screen. Natalie and Jo looked at one another anxiously.

Boots smiled at the reporter. "I really couldn't comment about it. It was all in complete innocence. Something about probation and men and bars when she was sixteen," she speculated.

Fury bubbled up instantly inside the former housemother. Part of her wanted to let Jo wipe that insolent look off the Gamma Gamma's face or, better yet, to do it herself.

As Mrs. Garrett picked up the remote and switched the set off, the door slammed shut behind them. She looked down at Natalie, who sat dumbfounded and heartsick on the couch.

"Go with her. Do not get arrested," was all she said.

**************

Grey stood in the doorway and smiled at her. One of his assistants was busy wrapping duct tape around and around her ankle, taping it firmly against the leg of the chair.

"Does your father know what a feisty and resourceful daughter he has, Ms. Warner?" he asked. When she didn't respond, Robert jerked the leather restraints that held her upper arms and she hissed.

Her dark eyes appraised her kidnapper coldly. "He has some idea," she answered.

"Yes, yes, I imagine he does," Grey responded mannerly. He entered the room and walked behind the chair. Robert threaded the leather bindings in and out of the rungs that formed the back of the chair. Blair's arms were now held behind her. The stranger in the dark glasses pulled the straps tight as he expertly fastened the last of the buckles in place.

"Fascinating," the older man commented. The soles of his Italian shoes squeaked as he waltzed around his prisoner. "Harry Houdini could extricate himself from a straight jacket while hanging upside down two stories above the pavement," he said.

"Forgive me if I don't applaud," she replied caustically. Robert fiddled with her shirt sleeve, rolling it up above her elbow, well clear of the thick fasteners.

Grey laughed. He bent at the waist and leaned down to her eye level. "It has been a pleasure, Ms. Warner," he remarked. "Apart from a few small transgressions in manners ... " his fingers trailed down the side of her face, passing over an angry bruise on her cheekbone.

She twisted away from his touch and he chuckled. "... you have been a perfect guest." Paul finished binding her second leg to the chair and exited the room.

Blair refused to acknowledge that his use of the past tense was unnerving her. "I'm glad you enjoyed yourself. I can't wait to send you a thank you card," She smiled in a insincere manner.

"What exactly is the zip code for hell?" she asked boldly. The man stood up abruptly and frowned at her.

He held up a single finger and ticked it back and forth. "Such hard words!" he tisked. Paul returned to the room. He carried a leather case of some sort.

"I want you to see something," Grey said as he moved back to the door, swung it open and pulled it closed. After opening it a bit, he tapped the deadbolt, inserted a key and turned it. The bolt popped out.

"I so admire your determination, Ms. Warner," he said as he unlocked the device. He showed her the key and placed it on the endtable beside the glass feet of the lamp.

He swung the door open again. "I imagine a will as strong as yours might move mountains," he speculated. "So I've prepared a challenge for you."

"We will soon take our leave of this fair city, and sadly, we no longer have use for your charming company," he reported breezily.

Blair held her head up high. She was frightened. But there is no way I'm going to let him know it, she decided.

He gestured toward the doorway. "I'll leave this door unlocked for you. All you have to do is find a way to free yourself and you can walk out of here today," he proposed.

Paul moved to stand beside the restrained young woman. The other associate gripped her left arm and shoulder as Paul removed a hypodermic needle from the black case.

No! Blair's resolve snapped at the double-cross. "Liar!" she screamed. "You know I could do it! You know I could've walked out of here!"

"My dear girl, you still can," he entreated. "... if you can sleepwalk."

Grey made a gesture and Robert stretched a cloth over her mouth to silence her. The socialite thrashed at her bindings as the man swabbed her upper arm. She felt a sting and watched in a haze as the men withdrew from the room.

The last thing she saw was the man she knew as Arthur Grey pulling the door closed.

Continued in Sections 6 - 10 (The Conclusion) 


End file.
